


if you asked me i would lose it all

by clintbartonswife



Series: it's not fair how much i love you [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Family Feels, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Serious Injuries, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Trauma, Whipping, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, mandatory bath scene, the jaskier gets kidnapped by nilfgaard fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clintbartonswife/pseuds/clintbartonswife
Summary: Jaskier is nothing if not loyal, most times to a fault. So, he takes the abuse that the Nilfgaardians throw at him and doesn't say a word about Geralt.But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: it's not fair how much i love you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877845
Comments: 88
Kudos: 772





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **TW: There are no descriptions of rape, however it's suggested that it happens. Please be careful if that triggers you x**

Jaskier had always felt too much, falling a little bit in love with almost everyone he meets. The seamstress from Beauclair with the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the knight from Kerack who had muscles the size of Jaskier’s head, the innkeeper and his wife from Rinde who had the warmest smiles he had ever seen.  
All loves that he treasured, yet let go after a night or two, the heartache keeping him company until he found another gorgeous person to fall for.  
When he finds Geralt at the ripe age of 18 it’s different, for once the bard doesn't want to leave, a nagging feeling pulling him along the path by the Witcher’s side.  
His love grows easily, from that of shallow appreciation of his honey golden eyes to a fierce want to protect his love from those that scorn him in every village they visit, a need to nurture the fragile relationship they were building.  
It’s only Jaskier’s luck that the only person to ever intrigue him enough to stay seems to want him to leave, impenetrable walls built around his heart.  
So, Jaskier writes songs of their travels, being respectful of Geralt’s boundaries whilst still trying to provide as much tender love and care as he could without scaring the Witcher, all the while falling deeper and deeper in love.

Everything starts to go wrong after the djiin.  
He watches through the window as his heart breaks with every thrust of Geralt’s hips, the Witchers disinterest (which he had assumed was general Witchery distance) suddenly making more sense - he just didn't like Jaskier.  
Still the bard stayed, sewing his heart back together with every step he took beside the Witcher. His affectionate touches didn't falter, not allowing his own personal hurt to affect ~~his~~ Geralt negatively. He still deserved as much softness as he could bring himself to provide - Melitele knows Yennefer wasn't providing that.  
Jaskier funnelled all of his creative energy in to his songs, more and more of them staying in his private notebook, too personal to be sung in front of Geralt, let alone the general public.  
After each time they met with Yennefer, Jaskier was there to pick up the broken pieces the Witch left behind, baring the brunt of Geralt’s bad mood for a week after she had gone, heart chipping a little more each time as his hatred for the woman grows.  
The last straw was the dragon hunt. The whistling winds whipping Jaskier’s hair in his eyes as Geralt’s words lashed out at him, vicious and hateful. 

In the following two weeks, Jaskier drank to forget, falling back into old habits and into strangers beds with a new desperation.  
The young farmer with hazel eyes - ~~not as beautiful as Geralt’s~~. The miller’s daughter with blonde hair - ~~not white enough~~.  
The people begin to blend together, yet it doesn't work. The heartbreak still radiates through his body, numbing him from any other emotion.  
He’s too drunk to register that Cintra has fallen.  
Too drunk to hear the rumours of the bounty on his head.  
Too drunk to notice the Nilfgaardian soldiers entering the tavern.  
Too drunk to defend himself against their arms that steal him away that night.

When he awakens the next morning, head throbbing with the familiar pain of a hangover, Jaskier is hit with a wave of nausea.  
Turning his head to the side, he reaches for the bed-side table, blanching when he finds his arms restrained. It takes a few seconds to register that he’s in unfamiliar surroundings: the distinctly tavern smell (of weak ale and piss) gone, the slightly scratchy linens of the bed replaced with a hard wood surface.  
Unrestrained panic swelled up in the bard’s chest, his instincts kicking in as he tried to mimic sleep.  
‘ _Just breathe slowly, keep your eyes closed and stay calm_ ’ repeated through his brain, sounding suspiciously like Geralt’s voice.  
“-the bastard up yet?”  
“He wasn't the last time I checked, no sir”  
“And no sign from the Witcher?”  
“None sir”  
Jaskier heard a scoff as the door opened, two sets of feet stopping at the side of the chair. Unnerving silence fell for a few seconds, before a heavy kick was given to his ribs, punching the air from his lungs in a loud exhale.  
“Now listen here, bard” the bigger of the two men all-but-growled, looming over Jaskier as the singer blinked heavily to clear the daze that had settled over him, “We’re going to make this real simple. You tell us what we need to know, and maybe we wont kill you”  
Scrunching his nose in disgust, Jaskier considered his options, “What is it that you want to know?”  
Another scoff.  
“Maybe he’s not so useless after all” the tall man sneered, exchanging an amused glance with the man stood in the corner, “Tell us where the Butcher of Blaviken is”  
Self preservation was forgotten as the nickname stirred up anger deep inside Jaskier, the unfairness choking him, “I’m afraid I don't know any butchers, not the biggest fan of hanging around long enough in towns long enough to befriend anyone in that profession I’m afraid”  
That earnt him a sharp slap, the sting helping to ground him.  
“Don't try to be smart. Where is the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia?”  
“Oh, I do know him” Jaskier answered, tone kept light and conversational, “Of course I haven't seen him in months so I’m afraid I’m really of no use to you gentlemen”  
Another slap.  
“Now that must be a lie. Why would the Witcher leave his little whore behind?”  
Now that one stung, the frown forming on Jaskier’s face before he could stop it.  
“Aw, struck a chord with that, did I? He found someone else I assume - though Melitele knows how anyone can lay with a monster like -”  
Rage finally overflowing, Jaskier spat in the man’s face, “How dare you call him a monster. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be”  
A bitter chuckle, followed by a punch that left the bard tasting copper.  
“I think you might actually be in love with that thing” he said, amused, “That just makes this all the more fun”  
Jaskier held eye contact with the man, glowering as he slowly spat out the pooled blood onto the floor.  
“Tell me where he is”  
“No”  
Two punches to his stomach, and a hard kick to his shin.  
“My sister hurt me worse than that for stealing her brush when we were seven” Jaskier sneered.  
“Where is he”  
A backhand across the face, followed by three hard kicks to his ribs.  
“ _Toss a coin to your-_ ”  
Another heavy kick to his stomach, winding him slightly as he keeled forward, a burning pain spreading over his chest.  
“ _Oh valley of plenty_ ” he wheezed, forcing his head back up to stare at his captor’s face.  
The day carried on very much the same, Jaskier working through his repertoire of songs as he was beaten black and blue, the lyrics keeping him focused and alert.  
The man in the corner just stood and watched, his silent presence looming over the beating.  
“I must say” Jaskier eventually huffed, directing his words at the man in the corner, “Your indifference to this situation is highly annoying. Are you not enjoying the performance?”  
His question was met with another heavy hit to his stomach, the skin there surely covered in a patchwork quilt of forming bruises.  
“You bore me”  
The voice was cold, cutting through the pain like a knife and replacing all feeling in his body with the need to flee, an innate wrongness surrounding the man.  
He stepped forward into the light, pink eyes flashing at him, “I think it’s high time we shut you up”  
The taller man grinned, a shark-like expression that just added to the bard’s discomfort, moving behind him to grab him by the sides of the head, tilting him so that his neck was bared to the room.  
' _They’re going to slit my throat_ ', Jaskier thought absently, half delirious with pain, ' _this is it_ '.  
The slimy tendrils of magic prodding at his mind made Jaskier’s eyes widen in panic, struggling against the bonds in a fruitless effort to get away from the unsettling sensation.  
No. No this was so much worse.  
He could handle pain. He could handle taunting words and harsh treatment. The one thing Jaskier couldn't handle was fucking mages.  
“No - “ he gasped, voice distorted by the angle of his head, “ _please-_ ”

Yellow eyes. Lips curled in to a snarl.  
The mountain.  
“ _Damn it, Jaskier!_ ”  
No. No no no no no no no. Not this. Anything but this.  
“ _Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, its you, shoveling it?_ ”  
White hair. Curled fists.  
“ _If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands_ ”  
Wet eyes. Shattered heart. A wasted life.  
“ _Damn it, Jaskier!_ ”  
And it looped. Again, and again, and again,

“Ready to talk, bard?”  
His eyes fluttered open, eyelids heavy, fighting to remain closed.  
“Fuck. You” he hissed, words mangled through gritted teeth.  
The mage smirked, fingers reaching for his temple again, “Very well. It seems like one hour wasn't enough”  
The last thought Jaskier had before being pulled back to the mountain was one of horror, _that one hour had felt like an entire day_.  
When he came to once more, Geralt’s voice still ringing in his ears, Jaskier realised there was a new man in the otherwise empty room.  
“Going to talk yet little birdy?” the man asked, voice far too light for the circumstances, his posture reminiscent of those that approached him in taverns with hopes of charming him into bed that night.  
The realisation occurred to him as he noticed his hands were free, a rusty cot added to the corner of the room.  
“No” he whispered, the horror palpable in his tone.  
“Well that's too bad” the man sneered, his too-rough hands dragging him out of the chair and towards the cot.  
The irony was that in that moment Jaskier would’ve given anything to have been back on that mountain, Geralt blaming him for everything, rather than be faced with his current reality.  
Of course, the mage wasn't kind enough for that.

Jaskier wasn't sure how many days had passed since his capture.  
What he did know was this: his throat was too sore to speak, ruined from both abuse and lack of water; his body was so mottled that it looked like he had begun rotting, greenish-yellow marks covering almost every inch of his skin; his back shredded by the impromptu whipping session earlier that morning; and he wasn't sure he could muster a smile, even if informed of the untimely and gruesome death of Valdo Marx.  
But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.  
He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.  
He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.  
They wouldn't take away his love.  
So he breathed steadily as he looked as his hands, tied down firmly to the arms of the chair, taking in every detail of the calloused fingers that made him the famous bard that he was today.  
“Last chance. Where is the Witcher”  
Jaskier just grinned, the smile bloody and insincere.  
“Fucking your mother I would imagine” he croaked, withholding the wince of pain from the strain on his throat, instead widening his grin at the look of anger on the man’s face.  
With a growl, the man brought the hammer down heavily on Jaskier’s left ring finger, smiling sickeningly at the bard’s agonised scream.  
“Where is he?”  
Head fuzzy with pain, Jaskier scowled and spat his blood in the man’s eyes.  
The sickening crunch of bone echoed around the small room, Jaskier’s scream ringing out as another two fingers were smashed.  
The line of questioning continued until all of his fingers were unrecognisable, the bard humming ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ through tears as he tried to regain control of his breathing.  
“What a shame” the captor said, fake sympathy swimming in his cold eyes, “Looks like you’re worth even less than you were when we found you. What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?”  
The man pretended to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Of course! A brothel worker!” He paused, tutting again and shaking his head, “No you cant even be that, we’ve made you far too ugly”  
Jaskier tried to ignore his words, focusing on his rattling lungs instead, forcing them to inhale and exhale.  
Unconsciousness crept forward, the pain finally overwhelming him, Jaskier falling into it’s open arms gladly.

“-cher isn't coming for him. We’ve had the word out for two weeks and got nothing”  
The words drifted in to Jaskier’s cell, the conversation prying him from sleep.  
“So what do we do? The bard’s not talking”  
“We were meant to give a destination by yesterday”  
“So we make one up, blame the bard when it comes back empty”  
“... That could work”  
“Then I’m guessing we kill him afterwards?”  
“Theres no reason to keep him”  
“Well-”  
“You’re not using army funds to feed just so he can be your personal whore, Cahir would skin you alive if he found out”  
Jaskier huffed a laugh at that - the realisation that his worth had finally been reduced to what his father had called him all those decades ago, ‘ _a worthless whore_ ’, ‘ _useless to polite society_ ’.  
The conversation carried on, though Jaskier’s mind drifted, thoughts racing yet head surprisingly clear. He shifted in his seat, only slightly to the left, wincing as the healing whip wounds on his back pulled open again, the stinging pain keeping him tethered to consciousness.  
Not for the first time, he wondered where Geralt was. Safe, that he was sure of, hidden from the greedy eyes of the Nilfgaardian army if their unhappiness was anything to go off of.  
Had he found Cirilla yet?  
Was Roach okay?  
Was he taking proper care of himself?  
And - in even his lowest moments - he found himself wondering how Yennefer was.  
If she was handling the break-up better than he did.  
If she was safe, happy, looked after.  
Or maybe, perhaps even back with Geralt. The three of them playing happy families while Jaskier rotted in a cell and waited for a hapless death.  
Being on your deathbed gave you a lot of perspective, Jaskier had realised, and he found it hard to even hate Valdo on occasion (until he regained some energy from a piece of stale bread thrown at him and immediately felt disgusted that the thought had even crossed his mind).  
As the fog in his brain seemed to seep into his dimming vision, his thoughts returned to Geralt’s eyes.  
“ _Goodnight my love_ ”


	2. 'cause you make me ache, you bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Wolf had always walked alone, until Jaskier came along and changed it all.  
> He refuses to let the bastard die if he can help it.

The three of them had been travelling towards Kaer Morhen when he felt it, the chill travelling up his spine with such ferocity that it made him halt in his tracks.  
“Geralt?”  
Ciri was sat upon Roach, the mare coming to a stop beside her owner, nudging the Witcher in the chest gently with her head. Ignoring the child for now, he tried to grab onto the feeling, not understanding the sudden sensation.  
“Yen” he grunted, turning to face the sorceress, “Do you feel it too?”  
The sorceress nodded, lips pinched together in concentration, “It’s someone calling for help, they sending it out so desperately I doubt they’ve done it on purpose” she said eventually, “But who-”  
“ _Jaskier_ ”

A few days after the mountain and Geralt had found himself stuck in a Cintran cell, the bland walls giving him plenty of time to replay the past week over and over in his head.  
Yennefer leaving, hurt blinding him as he lashed out at Jaskier. Walking down the mountain alone. The silence, encompassing him on his travels, and yet it was somehow more deafening than anything the bard could’ve played.  
Regret was quick to surface as the anger retreated.  
Regret for tying Yen’s fate to his. Regret for the way he treated Jaskier, on that mountain and in general over the last 22 years.  
Cintra fell and he found his child surprise, the two of them reconnecting with Yennefer weeks later.  
Apologies swapped between the two built a timid foundation of a new friendship, their sole focus being protecting his their child surprise from the Nilfgaardians that were sweeping across the continent.  
Despite both of his bonds being fulfilled, Geralt still felt a sense of emptiness at the back of his mind, eyes still searching for someone on the distance horizon - he wrote it off as paranoia, his body being on guard as they fleed the Nilfgaardian forces.  
But.  
There was always a but, a doubt at the back of his mind, eating away at his sanity. Another thread of destiny, pulled taught, in danger of snapping.

Of course Geralt should’ve guessed it was Jaskier.  
Panic bubbled at the base of his throat as he watched Yen start the tracking spell, the small group moved to a temporary camp just off the road.  
“Who’s Jaskier?” Ciri asked, voice hesistant.  
“Bard”  
The short response was obviously not enough for the princess, the girl moving closer to Geralt, “I recognise the name” she commented absently, “I think he performed for me once”  
Gerlat hummed absentmindedly, mind too focused on every possible disaster his - no - _the_ bard might have managed to get caught up in.  
“I have a trace” Yen announced, Geralt standing up immediately, “He’s in Neunreuth“  
Horror swept over Geralt, “That’s a Nilfgaardian controlled city”  
Ciri gasped in despair.  
“I have to go and get him -”  
“Geralt we have no idea what kind of defences they have, let alone what condition Jaskier will be in when we get there. Ciri is our main priority and we need to get her to Kaer Morhen before they catch up with _us_ ”  
“We cant just leave him!”  
Yennefer sighed, the exhaustion creeping in with her annoyance, “And I’m not suggesting that we do! What I’m saying is that we can storm into there with nothing more than good will and hope”  
Ciri slowly got to her feet, “I could help. I haven't got much control of it yet... but if I scream-?”  
Warmth spread through Geralt’s chest at her offer of help, a small smile lifting at the corners of his lips. Yennefer cut him off before he could speak.  
“I’m sure Jaskier would love to hear that you wanted to help, but your safety comes first. It’s simply too dangerous to bring you with us”  
“So what? He gets left behind because of me?” she asked, tears beginning to build up in her eyes.  
“No”  
Ciri turned to face Geralt, who’s face was set in a determined expression.  
“I’m not leaving him behind”  
“Will you stop making me out to be the bad guy for one second and listen to me!” Yen huffed, running her hands through her hair, “I’ll contact Triss. Hopefully she can look after Ciri for a few days while we go and get the bard. Then we can continue our trip to the Keep”  
With a definitive nod, Yen turned back to her pack, reaching for her xenovox.  
Ciri murmured nervously, hands fiddling with the end of her cloak, “You will come back for me, right?”  
Geralt grunted affirmatively, opening his arms for the young girl. Once she was encompassed in his arms, he placed a light kiss to the top of her hair, “We’re your family now” Geralt said lowly, drawing on his experience with the bard for some comfort to give the girl, “We’ll always come back to you”

Once he was sure that she was settled, Geralt turned away from Ciri and back outside to where Yen was waiting, steel sword in hand.  
“I don't know what we’re going to find” Yennefer said bluntly, “I need to know that you’re not going to lose your shit if something goes wrong”  
Geralt just nodded, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword impatiently.  
Triss stood off to the side, still healing from the battle of Sodden, offering wishes of good luck. The mage walked up to Yen, pressing their foreheads together briefly, “Don't do anything dumb”  
“No promises”  
Geralt adverted his eyes from the intimate scene, feeling oddly like he was intruding on a private moment - over the months since the dragon hunt he had obviously missed a large change in Yennefer’s life.  
He was happy for her, truly he was. The emotion confused him, so he repressed it for now, frowning intensely at the floor until Yen let out a cough.  
“Let’s go”  
The rushing sound of the portal brought Geralt back to the present, striding forward and through with murderous intent, coming out in the middle of the forest surrounding a large manor house.  
Yennefer stepped out behind him and the portal closed with a definitive clunk, “He’s in there” she said, checking the charm, “Basement. Left side”  
Geralt just nodded, “Can you portal us into his room?”  
“I could try, but it might be too risky. They could easily follow us if they hire a mage to trace the remnants. It could lead them back to Ciri”  
The Witcher shook his head, “We fight our way in then”

The stench of death swept across the manor, the sounds of clashing swords and yells echoing through the empty halls.  
Geralt strode through the bodies like a man on a mission, faltering for no one, mind solely focused on finding his bard alive. Men dropped around him like flies, his arm moving subconsciously, muscle memory allowing him to make quick work of the guards as he worked on finding Jaskier’s scent.  
The second the Witcher caught a waft of the familiar honey and wildflowers he let out a feral growl, increasing his pace to a sprint, rushing towards the source. As he neared the bard, the scent of copper grew overwhelming, only serving to increase his rage and brutality of his sword strikes.  
“Jaskier” he growled, pushing open the door of a cell to see his bard tied to a chair, head hanging limply down.  
Ignoring the noise of Yennefer fighting the final few enemies, Geralt fell to his knees in front of the chair, desperately searching for a heartbeat. His breath caught on a sob as he heard the weak fluttering of his heart, hands immediately scrambling to untie the ropes that kept him tied down.  
Geralt distantly registered the halls falling silent, Yennefer’s heeled shoes becoming the only sound left as he eased Jaskier’s unconscious form into his arms.  
“We should get him back to Triss” Yen said, her voice coming from the doorway, “He should survive the journey. It’s too risky to start healing him here”  
Geralt nodded silently, his eyes not straying from Jaskier's bruised face. He adjusted the bard once more in his arms, his hand cupping his limp head as gently as possible, before following Yen through the halls of dead bodies, all the while never looking away from his face.  
“Wait”  
Yen paused, turning back to face Geralt, “What now. We have him, we should get going before they send people to look”  
“His lute” Geralt said, “He wouldn't leave without his lute”  
The sorceress sighed, rubbing her temples, “Just - get him out of here. I’ll meet you in the forest”  
As the portal re opened, lute hanging on Yennefer’s back, Geralt took one last look at the manor and resisted the urge to set it ablaze with a passionate blaze of igni, instead walking through and back to the cottage, calling for Triss as he went.  
“Place him on the bed, second room on the left” Triss called, looking behind Geralt for Yennefer before following him, pushing the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows with a determined look on her face.  
“Is he okay?” Ciri asked, vocalising the choked up words stuck in Geralt’s throat as he lay the bard down.  
“He will be if we work fast” she replied, gesturing Yennefer to her side, “Ciri I need you to get me some tepid water. Geralt I need clean strips of cloth”  
Geralt nodded, grateful for a job to do, taking one last look at the bard’s pale form before striding out to look for supplies.  
He would be okay.  
He had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this is turning into a multi-chapter fic oh boy.  
> Jaskier's alive!  
> (for those of you who wanted angst, I'm working on a separate piece. bare with me please - college work is killing me >.<)
> 
> once again the title is from Fair by The Amazing Devil


	3. burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally safe, Jaskier struggles at the thought of being reunited with Geralt and Yennefer, all the while recovering from the mental and physical trauma inflicted during his stay with Nilfgaard.  
> Meanwhile, Geralt and Ciri deal with their guilt.

The first thing he noticed was the softness surrounding him, the comforting warmth so different to anything he had experienced the past couple of weeks. It felt like he was sinking into a marshmallow, his fragile body being supported by a cocoon of blankets.  
‘I must be dead’ he figured, cracking one eye open, only to be greeted by a blurry image of a small girl sat in a chair by his bedside, hair silver as the moon.  
“Melitele?”  
His voice came out cracked and sore, and the bard winced at the harsh sound cutting through the once peaceful silence.  
“You’re awake!” she said, rising up from her seat, "I’ll go and get Triss”  
As the girl fleed from the room, her face finally registered with the bard.  
“Oh fuck”  
If the princess of Cintra was here, Geralt couldn’t be far behind.

“Nice to see you’re awake”  
Jaskier turned to face the newcomer, a pretty woman with an even prettier smile. A few months ago he would’ve probably tried to flirt, but for now he just gave the woman a smile, nodding in greeting.  
“You were in bad shape when you arrived here” ~~the woman~~ Triss said, dragging the sheet down and revealing his chest, “I managed to stop the internal bleeding but I used too much of my energy to get rid of the surface wounds. I could try and heal them today if you’d like?”  
“Surface-” Jaskier cut himself off, scrambling to look at his hands, the image of his broken fingers still clear in his mind.  
Sensing his panic, Triss moved slightly closer, “that was one of the first things we fixed. I was told it was important”  
The bard sighed in relief, “Thank you”  
Triss startled at the sound of his voice, narrowing her eyes in concern, “Did they harm your throat? I could try and fix that? I know your singing is important to you”  
‘ _watch how he sings for me_ ’  
Jaskier winced, shakily raising a hand to touch his throat, nodding gently.  
“Okay”  
The sorceress smiled reassuringly, approaching the side of the bed, “may I?”  
“Yes”  
He closed his eyes as she reached towards him, her fingers skimming lightly along his adam’s apple, the tingling sensation of magic working around the ache until it had all-but disappeared.  
“There” her voice seemed tight, though Jaskier chalked it up to magic-exhaustion.  
“Thank you” he said, the words coming much easier now.  
Triss just nodded, smile looking slightly more forced, “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’re hungry - Ciri will bring up lunch in a few minutes”  
Jaskier just nodded once more, eyes trained on his fingers, watching as he flexed and moved the joints without pain, the relief still palpable in the air.

“How is he?”  
"As I’ve told you every time, he’s fine. He will live”  
Geralt sighed, relaxing back into his chair.  
“I don't understand why you don't go and talk to him” Ciri frowned, “You saved him after all”  
The Witcher just shook his head, glaring at the floor, “He wont want to see me. We didn't end things well”  
Ciri huffed, making her distaste of the answer clear, before picking up the bowl of soup and heading for Jaskier’s room.  
As soon as she left, Geralt redirecting his gaze back to Triss, “How is he really?”  
“Physically, he’s fine, truly, but the rest is going to take time Geralt. He’s traumatised... I think they - his throat was bruised. Not from the outside but the inside. We’re dealing with more than just surface wounds here”  
Geralt couldn't contain the growl that ripped from his chest, fists clenching.  
“No need to growl at Triss” Yennefer said, breezing into the room and standing vigil behind the other woman, “We know the people that took Jaskier were piece of shits and they’re dead now. They cant hurt him anymore”  
“But they did. Because of me”  
“Don’t get big-headed Geralt, not everything in the world is about you. Nilfgaard are pieces of shit. This is what they do. Those people would’ve hurt someone, and Jaskier is good at getting himself in trouble”  
“He sings about Witchers because of me -”  
“And if he met Eskel first he would sing of Witchers because of Eskel, this is not your fault Geralt. So please stop your whining”  
“I pushed him away”  
Yennefer sighed, crossing her arms, “Yes you did do that. That is on you, but you would’ve split up eventually for winter and this would’ve happened anyway”  
Lost for words, Geralt just nodded, averting his eyes back to the floor.  
“He’s going to be alright” Triss added, voice soft, “He will, but at some point you’re going to have to let him know that he’s not alone”  
With that, the two women left the room, leaving Geralt to his brooding thoughts, the guilt crashing over him in waves.

“Jaskier”  
The bard jolted from his daze, sitting up straight, “Please not again!”  
A shocked silence descended over the room as he regained his bearings, the past day returning to him, “Oh - oh your highness I apologise”  
“No, it’s my fault” the girl said, moving closer, a tray held in her hand, “I shouldn’t have woken you like that.”  
Jaskier shook his head, slowly pushing himself in to an upright position.  
“I’ve brought you soup” Ciri smiled, placing the tray over his lap once he settled, “I helped make it this morning”  
“Well then I’m sure it will be wonderful” Jaskier replied, his courtly charm re-emerging.  
Ciri bounced happily on the balls of her feet, placing the water on the beside table, “Would you like to eat alone? I can stay if you want”  
The bard smiled and gestured for her to sit down on the chair beside the be, glad for the company.  
The two sat in companionable silence for roughly a minute before Ciri burst, the question spilling out of her mouth in a rush, “I think you may have played at my court a few years ago - I recognised your face in my dreams - did you play at my name day a few years ago?”  
Setting down his spoon, Jaskier turned to the princess, “Yes I did, every year up until you turned 8. Calanthe decided she didn't want me returning so after that I wasn't invited back to court”  
“Why? Did something happen?”  
Jaskier sighed, accepting that his coup was going to have to wait for a bit, and placed the tray down on the bed beside him.  
“You should know by now of your destiny”  
“Being tied to Geralt? Yes. I found him a few weeks ago in the forest near Sodden”  
‘So he's definitely here’ Jaskier thought anxiously, swallowing down the thoughts for now to continue with the line of questioning.  
“Well I was there when he called for the Law of Surprise. Your mother, Pavetta, invited me back to your first name day celebration as a way of saying thank you. Though I think the invite was really meant for Geralt. So... I took it upon myself to check on you, only once a year, for as long as I could. By the time you were 8 I think that Calanthe was scared that I’d try and take you to Geralt behind her back - sneak you out of the castle somehow - and so she asked that I didn't come back”  
Ciri nodded slowly, and Jaskier could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She eventually spoke, “So you knew my parents?”  
“Oh, yes. They were lovely people, kind and fair.” Jaskier huffed a laugh as a reminiscent smile crossed his face, “I remember on your first name day they couldn't stop watching you, their love for you shining even brighter than that for each other. It was clear to everyone in that rom that you were a gift, Calanthe even let me play you some lullabies - and that woman never liked me playing anything but a jig.”  
The bard was pulled out of his memories by a small sob to his left.  
“Aw - no - Ciri come here” Jaskier cooed, opening his arms for the girl. She accepted the offer gladly, curling up in his embrace and placing her cheek against his chest.  
“Do you think they’d be proud of me?”  
Her voice was meek, mostly muffled against the now-damp fabric of his chemise. An ache radiated through his chest, the position reminding him of his younger sister back in Lettenhove.  
“Oh, Cirilla, of course they would be. You’ve been so strong” he replied, stroking her hair gently, “You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, okay? You fought to keep yourself safe and you found Geralt”  
“But all the people that have died -”  
“That’s not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped Nilfgaard. A whole army against one person? In no world is that a fair fight”  
“But you -”  
“My kidnapping is not on you either” He said sternly, “I’m a bard, we know a lot of things. I likely would’ve been captured for information anyway, that’s the unfortunate way of the world. I can promise you that none of that is your fault”  
Ciri hummed an affirmative noise, lifting her head from his chest, wiping her eyes, “I didn't mean to cry on you like that, I’m sorry”  
Jaskier just smiled, “You cant be strong all the time, Ciri. Everyone cries, bottling it up can make things worse”  
“I was always told to be strong. Grandmother - I need to be strong. I haven't seen Geralt cry”  
Jaskier shifted slightly so that he was eye-level with the princess, “Crying doesn't make you weak, far from it in fact. But if you need to vent and don't want anyone else to see you can always come to me. Okay?”  
Ciri nodded, though this time more self-assuredly, “Thank you Jaskier”  
Smiling, Jaskier patted her shoulder amicably, “Right I should probably finish my soup. Why don't you fill me in on what I’ve missed in the world whilst I eat - has Valdo Marx died yet?”  
“Who’s that?”  
Jaskier chuckled, “We’re going to be very good friends, I can already tell”  
Ciri flashed a grin, head tilting towards the door as her name was called from downstairs. Jaskier saw her hesitate, looking back a him.  
“Go ahead. I’ll be fine”  
“Okay, I’ll come back as soon as I can”  
As the door closed behind her, Jaskier slumped, the façade of energy draining away almost instantly. He stared down at his hands, the fingers throbbing with a dull ache, barely holding back tears.  
‘ _What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?_ ‘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've set the expected chapter amount to be 6, though it may go over that.  
> I hope you're all staying safe!
> 
> (again the title is from Fair by The Amazing Devil)


	4. you don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer talks to the bard, and Geralt talks to Roach, then gets told off and apologies (kind of) to Jaskier.

“I think he’d like to talk to you”  
Geralt was dragged out of his thoughts by Ciri, the girl standing in the doorway, a small frown on her face. The weak smell of salt hung around her, the scent betraying the recently shed tears.  
“Why were you crying?” he asked instead, not wanting to talk about Jaskier just yet.  
Ciri huffed a laugh, “Nothing bad. Jaskier and I were just talking and it reminded me of home”  
Geralt hummed, awkwardly opening his arms, silently offering comfort. A smile grew on the princess’ face, the girl accepting the hug happily. As she stepped into his arms he could smell Jaskier’s subtle scent amongst hers. The Witcher repressed a smile, the thought of Jaskier comforting his child surprise creating a warm feeling in his chest.  
“I can tell he’s scared” she eventually mumbled, cheek resting against his shoulder, “I think he would feel better knowing you’re here to protect us”  
“I’m not so sure he wants to see me after...”  
He trailed off, throat tightening at the thought of the mountain.  
“He didn't tell them anything” Ciri said, pulling back from the hug, eyes blazing with confidence, “If he hated you he wouldn’t have resisted and lived through all of that torture to protect you - to protect us”  
Geralt nodded wordlessly, a small spark of hope flaring deep in his gut.  
“I better get to Yen, but please go and talk to him”  
“I will, just … later”  
Ciri nodded, a soft look on her face, and left the room, leaving Geralt to his thoughts once again.  
Sighing, the Witcher stood up, making his way outside and to the stables, greeting Roach with a tired smile.  
“Hey there girl,” he said, hand resting gently on her nose, “sorry I didn't come to check on you last night. Everything was still up in the air about Jaskier”  
Roach snorted, bumping her muzzle against his chest lightly, pushing a small laugh out of the man.  
“Yes, yes, he’s fine now. He needs to rest for a few more days and then we’ll be able to move”  
Another snort, this time accompanied with a heavier hit.  
“Yes, I need to ask him. I will... just not right now”

The bard hummed absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the ceiling.  
He still hadn't left the bed, almost scared of feeling the weakness in his body as he tried to stay standing. Not to mention the mirror he could see in the corner of the room.  
Maybe it was narcissistic of him, but Jaskier was terrified to take the first look in the mirror. He knew that his body was tarnished; he could see the residual bruises on his chest and stomach and the whipping scars on his back ached every time he moved. He didn't want to think about what his face looked like.  
‘Little birdy, so pretty. Without your looks, what are you?’  
His shaking hands never reached his face, too scared to check the damage. Without his good looks, his career as a bard was almost certainly finished.   
He shivered as thoughts of returning to Lettenhove crossed his mind, his father’s disapproving glare breaking him down to the bare bones of his being, reverting him back to the ghost that once roamed the manor’s halls.  
“Well you look positively ghastly”  
Jaskier startled, hissing in pain at the agony that rippled up his back, wincing as he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position.  
“Ah, hello witch. I had a feeling I could feel your bad vibes permeating these walls”  
Yennefer moved towards him, looking as intimidating as ever.  
“I see you haven't lost your spirit” she commented, looking at him with thinly veiled pity in her violet eyes, “I’m surprised you haven't tried to escape yet”  
The bard scoffed, gesturing vaguely at his body, “I couldn't even if I tried”  
She hummed thoughtfully, eyes wandering around the room, letting the silence stew uncomfortably.   
Jaskier sighed, breaking it as she wanted him to, “I guess I owe you my thanks, I doubt the Witcher could’ve found another sorceress that would help him without your assistance”  
“So he’s _the Witcher_ now, is he?”  
“Well he certainly isn't mine, and last I was told he wanted nothing to do with me. I assume that includes losing first name privilege” Jaskier frowned, finally finding the courage to meet her eyes, “I thought you’d be happy - me not following you two around like a … what was it you called me? Oh, right, a lost puppy”  
Now it was time for Yennefer to frown, stepping closer to the bard, “We traded barbs, yes, but that never meant that I wanted you gone”  
Jaskier huffed in disbelief, “Be careful there, dear witch. You almost sound like you care about my wellbeing”  
Yen’s silence was damning.  
“If it’s any consolation” Jaskier offered, breaking another bout of unsteady silence, “I never hated you. In fact -” he broke of, a weak laugh escaping his lips, “I rather admired you”  
Yennefer’s lips tipped into a small smile, the expression softer than anything he had ever seen aimed at him. He knew what it was, an acceptance of the unspoken apology, and even a mutual respect.  
As she turned to leave, she glanced at the mirror, “You’re going to have to look at some point” she stated, the straightforwardness oddly comforting, “but no matter what you see, you have four people who are here to support you. This is not the end, bard”  
She left before he could reply, his throat closed as unwanted tears rushed to his eyes.

“For Melitele’s sake, talk to the bard”  
Geralt tensed, hand continuing his stroking of Roach’s nose as he purposefully avoided Yen’s gaze, “He doesn't want to see me”  
The sorceress let out an aggravated sigh, stepping into the stable, “He thinks that you hate him”  
Geralt’s hand faltered, “What?”  
“His head is messy, and none of it is positive right now Geralt”  
Geralt whirled around to face her, exasperation clear in his features, “Yen - what have I said about reading minds -”  
“I know! But I was in the room for a solid five minutes without him noticing, and he was just staring at the ceiling, looking like he was giving up. I had to check that he wasn't thinking of doing anything stupid”  
The implication sent a chill deep into Geralt’s chest, the Witcher taking a menacing step towards her, “Jaskier would never do that”  
She scoffed angrily, “Oh please Geralt, don't try that posturing bullshit with me. He’s just been tortured. It’s a perfectly reasonable mindset to be in - not that he is. Jaskier... he’s struggling and he needs a friend”  
A growl built in Geralt’s chest, the man beginning to pace, “Why do you want to help him all of a sudden. I remember you trying to get me to leave him behind on more than one occasion”  
Yen’s frown deepened, the witch crossing her arms defiantly, “I don't wish death on him. If I did, why would I have helped you save him? Why would I have healed him?”  
Geralt stood silently, his eyes averted to the ground.  
“Get your shit together” she spat, leaving the stables in a flash of black velvet.  
He stood there for what seemed like hours, unmoving until Roach shoved him towards the doors of the stable.  
“Okay, okay, I get it” 

Jaskier stayed staring at the door for a long time, the scent of lilac and gooseberries feeling oddly calming. Before he could tail dive about the implications of that, a flash of white in his peripheral vision caused his body to tense.  
“May I come in?”  
The familiar cadence of Geralt’s voice sent almost imperceptible shivers down Jaskier’s spine, the bard nodding his silent assent.  
At his signal, Geralt stepped into the room, his imposing figure seemingly looming over him even from the other side of the room.  
“I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me”  
Jaskier huffed a laugh, finally moving his head to face the man, “I think you’ve got that the wrong way around, Witcher. If I remember rightly it was you that wished to never see me again”  
Jaskier watched with barely repressed shock as a slight flinch flashed across the Witcher’s face at the harshness of his words, “What I said on the mountain...”  
He trailed off, at a loss for words, eyes looking lost.  
Refusing to take pity on his old friend, Jaskier moved so he was sat up straighter, clearing his throat purposefully.  
“Which part? The bit where you blamed all of your recent life choices on me, or the part where you wished for life to take me off of your hands? Or perhaps do you mean when you called me a shit shoveller?” The bard’s voice stayed level, the words eerily devoid of emotion.  
He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, before looking directly into Geralt’ eyes, “I tried my hardest to be a friend to you. I gave you the best years of my life - twenty two years travelling by your side - and what do I get in return? Tossed aside like I was nothing more than a stone stuck in the heel of your shoe”  
“Jaskier-”  
“No. I am talking now, Witcher. I tried taking myself off of your hands. I stayed away from you, travelled in the opposite direction whenever I heard news of your whereabouts. And when they caught me -” his voice cracks then, the emotion finally breaking through the façade, “I stayed loyal to you. I would’ve happily died, I thought I had in all honesty, and granted your wish because the thought of hurting you is worse than death”  
Geralt stepped forward, chest clenching with the unspoken confession lying between the bard’s words. He halted as Jaskier lifted a hand, a clear sign that he wanted space.  
“You may have never called me a friend, Geralt of Rivia, but you were my everything” He took another steadying breath, “When I am healed enough I will take my leave, I know when I’m not wanted and I would hate to get between you and your witch once again”  
The thought of Jaskier leaving sent a sharp spike of fear through Geralt’s body, his throat clenching as words of protest bubbled.  
In the end, it was the look of utter defeat on Jaskier’s face that set the words in motion, the walls that Geralt kept up coming crumbling down at his feet as he began to attempt to fix what was broken.  
“Jaskier, you’re not my friend -”  
“Oh thank you so much for that, really that’s lovely to hear -”  
Geralt shook his head desperately, moving to kneel at the side of the bed, looking into his eyes pleadingly, “ _No_ \- you’re not my friend. You were always so much more to me than that and I -”  
He cut himself off, a frustrated noise escaping him as he searched for the right words, his hands stressing through his hair, tangling a section into a big knot.  
“I - You - It was always just me and Roach, but then you came along and it was different. You looked at me and didn't smell of fear - you trusted me - and I -”  
A light touch to his left hand had Geralt looking back up, the bard watching him with tears in his eyes. He stayed silent as he gently guided Geralt’s hands away from his hair, tutting at the tangled mess he made.  
“You never were good with words, were you, Wolf”  
The sound of the nickname leaving Jaskier’s lips was like a switch, his body relaxing, eyes finally locking with his.  
An understanding passed between the two men, hands lightly entwined.  
“I didn't need words with you” Geralt confessed quietly, hoping Jaskier would understand what he was trying to say.  
Jaskier smiled, a small hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless.  
“Yes, I suppose you didn't”  
They sat there like that for a few minutes, letting the familiar touch soothe old wounds. The silence was nice, comfortable in a way that Geralt had only ever felt with Jaskier.  
“I hope you know I haven't fully forgiven you yet” the bard eventually said, “I’m expecting a full apology one of these days”  
Geralt nodded solemnly, bringing their entwined hands against his chest, “You deserve nothing less”  
The tentative smile returned, a flash of the old Jaskier returning to his eyes, a depth of mischief returning and pushing out the emptiness that had clouded the once bright blue iris’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again the chapter title is fron 'Fair' by the Amazing Devil   
> (I think we can assume from now on that they're all going to be from that song)
> 
> Thanks for reading, remember to stay safe <3


	5. it’s what’s engraved upon my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally healing, Jaskier faces his reflection, Geralt faces his feelings and Triss and Yennefer have a realisation.

“You should be able to move about with relative ease now” Triss smiled, pushing an escaped curl back behind her ear as she looked at her work with pride, “You could come downstairs and join us all for dinner tonight”  
Jaskier grasped the mage’s hand gently, “I can never repay all that you have done for me” he said seriously, “if there’s anything I can do-”  
Triss laughed, shaking her head, “We’re friends by now, are we not, Jaskier? You don't need to repay me -” she paused for a moment, a cheeky smile creeping on to her lips, “Though I wouldn't mind a song”  
A bright smile overtook his face despite the still-present pulsing in his hands, “Then consider it done”  
She looked at him once more, friendly affection clear in her eyes, before extracting her hands from his hold and moving back towards the door.  
“I’ll see you for dinner then?”  
“I’ll walk down there myself and everything”  
She laughed as she left, her voice carrying down the hallway, taking the light atmosphere with her.  
His eyes fell on to the mirror, looming menacingly in the corner.  
He had to know.

Yennefer frowned at the map in front of her, the xenovox recently quiet, left over magic still permeating the air.  
“What’s got you frowning?” Triss asked, coming up behind her and slipping her arms around the taller woman’s waist, her chin resting in the nook between her shoulder and neck.  
At the feeling of her lovers body, Yen relaxed, some of the tension slipping from her frame.  
“I got a message, the Nilfgaardians heard about our little rescue mission, Fringilla recognised my magic”  
Triss muttered a curse under her breath, tightening her hold.  
“Thankfully they got there too late to use it to trace the portal. They don't know where we are but are heading East”  
“So?”  
Yen sighed, “We’re going to need to leave soon. If they get diverted towards us as they pass through here” she pointed to the map, “then it will take them less than a week to find us”  
“Shit”  
“Shit indeed”   
Turning around in her arms, Yennefer leant back against the table, hands moving to cup Triss’ cheeks gently, “Will you come with us? I don't want to leave you but I promised to protect Ciri”  
She smiled, leaning forward so that their foreheads met, “I know you want to protect me, but I have to stay behind. I’ll catch up with you”  
Yen frowned, pulling away from the contact, “Stay behind?”  
Triss sighed, “Yes, stay behind”  
“Why?”  
Triss ran a hand through her hair, moving away from Yen and jumping up on to the table, sitting next to the map, “Think about it logistically, the four of you will have a target on your back and we’re both still recovering from Sodden -”  
Yen’s eyes diverted to the scarred skin peaking out from behind her dress, warping her cleavage, “Triss -”  
“Please just let me finish” she said, reaching out and retaking Yen’s hands in hers, “it’s the smart option for us to do this. If Nilfgaard is moving quicker than we predicted, then we could get caught as we move through the valley, but if I stay behind here then I could divert them - buy you some time”  
“Triss, no. You’re not playing the sacrificing card with me right now”  
“But Yen-”  
Flashing violet eyes hardened, “No. I am not leaving you behind. You saw what they did to Jaskier, and that was without the knowledge that he knew anything. If you stay behind they wont stop until you’re a husk of your former self -”   
She cut herself off, dropping Triss’ hands and begging to pace across the floor, “They’ll use demetrium. Fringilla will use you in her spells - I cant - I cant leave you and willingly subject you to that”  
“Okay”  
It was quiet, but Yennefer turned around nonetheless, catching Triss’ teary eyes, “Thank you”  
Rushing forward, she pulled Triss into an embrace, one hand cupping the back of her neck protectively, “I couldn't live knowing you were hurt”  
The smaller woman nodded, pressing a light kiss to her neck, “I’ll come with you”  
They stayed there, intertwined, for some time.   
“We’ll have to leave within the next three days” Triss eventually said, eyes straying to the window, “Who’s going to tell Jaskier?”  
“Geralt” Yen replied, as if stating the obvious, “Once we tell him of course”  
The sorceress just hummed, a small smile ticking up on her lips as she caught sight of Ciri dancing around the garden, “And the princess?”  
“I guess we could take that one” Yen sighed, “She’s not going to love it, but she’ll understand”  
“As long as she’s safe”  
Yennefer smiled, squeezing Triss’ hand in hers.  
“As long as she’s safe” 

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier set his shoulders, pushing himself up from the bed and crossing the room, stopping in front of the mirror.  
An involuntary whimper fell from his lips as he caught sight of himself, a large scar marring his face, starting from the middle of his hairline and ending at his right temple.   
His shaking hand reached to touch it, the feeling of mottled skin making him cringe.   
He was scarred, damaged goods.   
No court would want to see him perform looking like this - bards were supposed to be a centre piece, a piece of artwork to be admired and adored - with a face like this he’d be laughed out of manor houses, let alone palaces.  
He stared blankly at his reflection as the realisation sank in. He was _useless_ -

_‘little birdy, look at you so pathetic’_   
_The knife glinted in the guard’s hand, the sharp edge taunting him as it cut through the air, being brandished in front of him like a butcher preparing to dice his meat._   
_‘normally I don't like ruining my toys this early’ the man commented, gently using the knife to move Jaskier's sweaty hair from his forehead, ‘but you’re just being so uncooperative’_   
_The knife dug in, the bard withholding any noise._   
_‘aw, come on now. don’t be a little bitch, birdy’ the man sneered, digging the knife in further and dragging it in an uncoordinated line across his forehead, blood seeping from the opening and falling into his eye, ‘sing for me’_   
_‘I don't know where he is’_   
_‘useless. utterly useless’ The man smiled cruelly, finishing the cut, ‘not even monsters will love you now’_

He blinked back into the present, familiar hands cupping the side of his face.  
“-ier. Jaskier come back to me - hey, hey -”  
A wounded whimper escaped the bard’s lips, his hands flying up to grasp Geralt’s arms, panic still coursing through his body like a wildfire.  
“You’re safe. You’re here with me” the witcher said, rocking the two of them together in a calming motion.  
“I - I’m sorry” Jaskier wheezed, chest heaving as he fought for breath.  
His trembling body was pulled gently against Geralt’s broad chest, Jaskier starting to ease at the comforting feeling of being encompassed in his Witcher’s arms.  
“Don't apologise”  
Jaskier just nestled further into his chest, the rumbling sensations of Geralt’s growling voice sending a wave of calm over the smaller man.  
Geralt watched as he started to drift off to sleep in his arms, the action causing affection to bloom within his chest, the pure trust that Jaskier was showing causing his guilt to hit him again full force.  
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, just watching Jaskier breathe, before footsteps disturbed the peaceful silence that had descended on to the room.  
“Is he -” Triss cut off at Geralt’s intense glare, switching to a whisper, “ Is he alright?”  
“I think he was having a flashback” Geralt replied, voice lowered, “I pulled him out of it and then...”  
He trailed off, his eyes returning to the sleeping bard in his arms, words failing him.  
“The way you look at him... you look in love” Triss remarked, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile.  
Geralt just huffed, somehow not finding the energy in himself to deny her allegation, instead focusing on the hair that had fallen over Jaskier's eyes.  
A cough had his head whipping back up, ready to fix the newcomer with a heavy glare, only to find all three women staring at him with knowing smiles.  
“What?”  
“ _Nothing_ ” Ciri grinned, rocking back and forth on her heels.


	6. 'cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt uses his brain cell, and Jaskier no longer has to doubt.

Waking up in Geralt’s lap was not an experience Jaskier thought he would ever have, but one that was every bit as good as he imagined it would be.  
The bard laid there for a few moments in shocked wonder, his foggy brain reeling as he tried to grasp that _this was happening_ , when Geralt’s voice startled him.  
“I know you’re awake”  
Through the thickness of his embarrassment, Jaskier could’ve sworn that the Witcher sounded amused. Peaking one eye open to make sure, he held back his shock at the small smile pulling at the man’s lips.  
“‘m ‘wake” he mumbled, body preparing to move, “s’rry I kept you”  
Sword-calloused hands gently gripped his arms, assisting him into an upright position.  
“You didn't keep me” his voice was soft, and the Witcher hesitated slightly, before quietly adding, “it was nice to hold you”  
Jaskier’s cheeks blazed, a meek smile pulling at his lips.  
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them willing to move and break the contact between their bodies, Jaskier revelling in the warmth that poured from the Witcher’s body.  
“My face...” the bard trailed off again head turning to vacantly stare at the mirror, self-hatred starting to brew within him once again.  
Geralt frowned, hating the despondent look on his face, tightening his hold ever so slightly, “Holds the proof of your bravery”  
“They ruined me”  
The whispered admission rung out across the room like a scream, the broken edge to the words stabbing through Jaskier’s heart. Silence descended once more, though this time weighted with the acknowledgement of what was lost.  
“When you see my scars... do you think they are disgusting?”  
“What? Of course not! Geralt who would dare -”  
A flash of realisation flashed over the bard’s face, the smaller man relaxing back into Geralt’s arms, “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Clever Witcher”  
The deep chuckle rumbled from the Witcher’s chest, Jaskier smiling despite himself at the rare noise.  
The two of them sat there for the rest of the morning.

"Hey, Ciri. Can you come here for a moment?”  
The young girl walked into the kitchen, curious eyes immediately fixing on to Jaskier sat in the corner, face pale but looking proud of himself.  
“Jaskier!” she squealed, rushing over to give him a careful hug, warmth blooming inside her at the smile that pulled at the man’s lips, “You made it down!”  
“And all by myself as well” he replied, chin resting on the top of her head. He then dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning down to whisper in her ear conspiringly, “Geralt tried to carry me down but I wouldn't let him”  
Ciri giggled at the image, stepping back to finally face Triss, “You called me?”  
The sorceress nodded fondly, gesturing for her to come over to the stove, “Yesterday you asked to learn potions -”  
Ciri squealed, “Really? You’ll really let me?”  
The woman laughed, shaking her head at her excitement, “Not so fast, princess. Before letting you near potions, I want to see how you handle cooking”  
The blonde’s smile dropped, leaving a look of confused distaste, “Cooking?”  
Jaskier muffled a snicker from where he was sat, earning a glare from the young girl.  
“Yes, cooking. If you can successfully make a stew without burning the cottage down then I can assume that you’re also capable of doing the same for potions”  
Ciri’s frown didn't dissipate, crossing her arms as she grumbled.  
“Of course” Yennefer interrupted, a teasing lilt to her voice, “If you don't want to you can just go back to doing weapon drills with Geralt”  
At that the princess jumped to attention, peering into the simmering pot with exaggerated interest, “So cooking?”  
Jaskier laughed again, a strong hearty sound, at the look of offence that flashed across the Witcher’s face, “I’m sure she only meant that she wanted to try something new Geralt. You don't have to look so shocked”  
The Witcher grumbled something under his breath, though Ciri could see the sides of his lips quirk into an almost invisible smile. The expression warmed something within her, looking between the two men with barely reserved curiosity. If Jaskier could make Geralt smile that easily, she wondered why the two of them were so obviously distancing themselves, to the point of sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen.  
Yen smirked from beside her, a knowing glint in her eye.   
“Men can be idiots sometimes” the sorceress whispered, “these two especially”  
Ciri nodded, a plan brewing in her head. Seeing this, Yennefer snorted, “Excellent idea princess”

“If we have to move tomorrow, would it be too much hassle to ask for a bath?”  
Jaskier sunk back into his chair as all eyes swirled back to him, a small embarrassed noise escaping his lips, “Or not. Never mind - forget i asked”  
“Don't be silly bard” Yennefer chastised, looking him up and down, “You need a bath. I just don't think you’re strong enough to bathe yourself yet without accidentally drowning and Melitele knows I’m not going to help you”  
Ciri nodded earnestly, “I’d be worried”  
She then turned to fix her violet eyes on Triss pointedly, the sorceress shrugging with a small smile, “Sorry Jaskier, but giving you that sponge bath when you first got here was the extent of my generosity in that area”  
Jaskier sighed disappointedly, shoulders sagging in defeat, “Oh well. Cant blame me for asking, thank you for-”  
“I can help”  
Geralt spoke so quietly that Jaskier almost missed it, but judging from the predatory smile that rose on Yennefer and Ciri’s face, there was no escaping.  
“What a _wonderful_ idea, Geralt”  
The bard turned to face him, eyes wide, “If it’s not too much trouble...”  
The Witcher looked pained, clearing his throat before offering his hand, nodding towards the doorway, “Not at all. I’d be ... glad to help”

Jaskier raised from his seat unsteadily, grasping the hand to steady himself, all the while trying to will away the blush that was steadily creeping up his neck at the thought of Geralt near his naked body.  
As they walked to the bathroom, his thoughts strayed to their earlier conversations - confessions masked with shy smiles. He frowned, doubt seeping into his mind. Had they confessed? Or was Jaskier reading in to something that wasn't there yet again?  
He had asked Geralt about the sorceress - he was sure of it. Geralt hadn't denied their involvement, just changed the subject completely.   
“You alright?”  
Jaskier slapped on a quick smile, flashing it at the older man with a nod, before the thoughts took hold of him again.  
If he was in fact still with Yennefer, then why did she seem so determined to get Geralt to help Jaskier bathe. Was she teasing him? No. They were friends now, surely.  
‘ _not even monsters will want you now_ ’  
A small whimper escaped his lips as he became overwhelmed, limbs becoming shaky. Would they leave him behind as they moved on? Left alone to be captured again -  
“Jaskier, hey - hey look at me. Focus on me,” Geralt said, his voice soothing the bard, “That’s it, good boy”  
The praise seemed to electrify Jaskier, another whimper escaping him. Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, the older man filing that information away for later, before helping Jaskier to sit down on the side of the tub.  
“Sorry” he mumbled, eyes still locked with Geralt’s amber ones.  
“Nothing to be sorry about” Geralt replied, lifting his left hand to cup the bard’s cheek gently, the other keeping him steady on the rim of the bath tub, “What set you off?”  
Jaskier breathed out shakily, deciding to narrowly avoid the problem, “When... when you all leave, am I coming with you?”  
Geralt blinked, a look of confusion and hurt flashing across his eyes, “of course you are. Why would you think that we were leaving you?”  
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, “Look at me Geralt. I’m only going to slow you down. Plus, you and Yennefer are going to get bored of having me around again at some point and it’ll be the mountain all over again -”  
Geralt frowned, things suddenly starting to make a lot more sense.   
“Jaskier... Yennefer and I are not together”  
The bard spluttered, eyes widening, “I - what - “   
The soft smile returned to Geralt’s face, the man now knowing how to fix the situation, “We’re not together. We decided that we could work together for Ciri but that’s it”  
“So... what you said the other day... I didnt read that wrong?”  
Jaskier flushed, ducking his head as his hopeful question settled heavily in the air. The bard wanted to move, to submerge himself in the magically conjured water behind him - anything to escape the sudden hush that had fallen over the room.  
Instead, he found his chin being guided upwards, lips caressing his softly - hesitantly. Before he had time to react, the Witcher withdrew.  
“I’m sorry I -”  
Getting his wits back, Jaskier launched himself at Geralt, reattaching their lips with a smile, hands cupping the sides of his face. The Witcher let out a shocked noise, before melting into the embrace, his strong arms wrapping around the bard’s waist and holding him securely, not letting him fall.   
Detaching their lips for breath, Jaskier grinned, happiness overwhelming him.  
“Well, dearheart, I can safely say that was every bit as amazing as I thought it would be”  
Geralt smiled shyly, his swollen lips giving him a look so utterly debauched that it took everything in Jaskier to not attack him once again. Instead, sparing a thought for how his body ached just from the make out session, he reached out with his hands, entwining them with the Witcher’s.

Sensing he wasn't going to speak, Jaskier spared a glance at the water, raising an eyebrow, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d still love to have my bath. Will you still help me?”  
As if waiting for an instruction, Geralt nodded and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hairline before releasing his hands and moving over to a bag in the corner of the room.  
“I thought you might like to use these” he said, presenting a jar of bath salts.  
Jaskier’s smile widened, nodding, “Yes please dear”  
Geralt seemed to swell slightly with pride, dropping a few of the salts in the bath before putting the jar aside, turning back to him and carefully removing his shoes. Jaskier began to hum as Geralt worked to undress him, filling the silence almost absentmindedly.   
“I missed you on the road” Geralt said, his low voice hesitating as he reached the buttons for his shirt, eyes flicking up for permission.  
Jaskier smiled hesitantly at him, humming his assent, watching as Geralt took the last piece of clothing off, revealing his body. Turning around without a word, Jaskier climbed into the tub, flinching at Geralt’s sharp inhale.  
A light touch ghosted over the whip-scars on his back, the sensation making Jaskier shiver, shoulder’s tensing as he waited for him to leave - to be so disgusted by what he saw that he had to walk away before the sight of Jaskier made him sick.  
‘ _you’re ruined little birdy, who’s gonna love you now_ ’  
He was stupid to think that Geralt could’ve possibly-  
The Witcher’s head rested gently between his shoulder blades, lingering there for a few seconds.  
“I should’ve made them suffer” Geralt snarled, retracting from his body, instead gripping the side of the tub so hard the copper groaned.  
Shocked, Jaskier turned, only to be met with a face full of grief and regret, not a sign of disgust anywhere. Relaxing slightly, Jaskier placed a hand over his, gazing up at the Witcher with barely restrained adoration.  
“You killed them” he said, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “They cant hurt me anymore”  
Geralt ‘hmm’ed, lifting his spare hand to trace the bard’s cheek. He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle touch, and leaned into the hand, “You saved me from them, Geralt. Without you I don't know where I’d be”  
The raw honesty made Jaskier shiver, the reality of the situation making his bones ache in his body as remembered the endless days of torture. Geralt frowned, sensing the bard’s discomfort and knelt by the side of the bath so that they were level.  
“It’s my fault that you were there in the first place”   
“Geralt, no. You cant think like that” Jaskier murmured, sadness lining his every feature, “None of it was your fault - I’m a bard, these risks come with the job”  
“But they asked you about me” Geralt replied, voice cracking.  
“And I would’ve gladly died before letting you up”  
A growl ripped from the Witcher’s chest, “No”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry - that was the wrong thing to say”   
Jaskier reached up to smooth the frown lines from the Witcher’s face, before leaning forwards and connecting their lips once more in a chaste kiss, “We’re safe... Now if you really don't mind I would love for you to wash my hair”  
Geralt huffed a laugh at Jaskier’s bluntness, pressing their foreheads together for a brief time, then moving to pick up a clean rag from the chair next to the tub. Jaskier let out a sigh as he turned and relaxed against the side of the tub, finally letting the warm water soothe his aches and pains.  
Dipping the rag into the water, he lathered on some soap and started to gently clean Jaskier’s chest, anger simmering at every glimpse of the bruises that painted his skin.   
“They’re just battle scars, dearheart” Jaskier smiled sleepily, watching Geralt through lidded eyes.  
He just grunted, working to methodically purge every inch of his body of their touch. He’s so focused on his movements that he doesn't notice Jaskier drifting off to sleep until the soft snores register to his hearing. A soft smile settles on his lips at the blissful expression on his bard’s face.   
“Jask” he murmurs, stroking his cheek gently, “Jask you need to wake up so I can do your hair”  
The bard startled out of sleep, eyes wide, “wha-?”  
As he caught sight of Geralt, he calmed, settling back against the tub with a tired smile, “ah, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you, my love”  
Geralt could feel a flush creep up his neck at the endearment, flashing a small smile at the bard, “You needed it... you looked peaceful”  
Jaskier huffed a small laugh, hand reaching to cup the one the Witcher had still cupping his face, “Are you trying to charm me, dear?”  
Scoffing, Geralt pulled away, reaching for the small cup he had placed at his side, “Sit up so I can wash your hair”  
“Youre avoiding the question” Jaskier sing-songed, a cheeky grin on his face as he moved to a upwards position.  
The Witcher shushed him, dunking the cup and gently pouring the water over his head, taking care not to get it in his eyes. All the while, Jaskier watched him with an awed reverence that flustered the Witcher. He was almost glad when Jaskier’s eyes fluttered shut as Geralt massaged the soap into his hair, freeing him from the admiration.  
“We’ll be okay” Jaskier breathed, a small nod of his head accompanying the statement. Realising the bard was talking to himself, Geralt stayed quiet, his chest lightening at the first sign of emotional healing.

They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left!
> 
> thank you for sticking with me as I write this - it's taken longer than I thought it would <3


	7. inundated with the fated thought of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the group travels to Kaer Morhen, Ciri finally understands the meaning of ‘chosen family’ and Jaskier sings once again

“Ciri! Geralt wants you outside!”  
The princess turned away from Jaskier, the bard leaning against the wall for stability, fixing Yennefer with a curious look, “Now?”  
“Yes now, he wants to teach you how to properly tack a horse, especially now that we have the extra one.”  
Jaskier perked up at this, smile widening, “A new horse? Who would that be for?”  
“You - you’re in no state to walk far distances and we can’t exactly leave you behind.” Yen replied, fixing Jaskier with a mock glare.  
The bard smiled sagely, relaxing into the familiar banter, “You should know by now that I’m too hard to shake, witch.”  
“A tragedy, really.”  
Triss scoffed from her seat at the table, packing away potion ingredients with care, “You’d both be lost without each other, just admit it. You wouldn't know what to do if you didn't have someone to lovingly insult everyday.”  
Jaskier and Yennefer looked at each other with fake disgust, lasting a few seconds before erupting into laughter.  
“I guess you’re not so bad.” Yen huffed, nudging him gently with her shoulder.  
“Same has to be said for you,” Jaskier grumbled mockingly, “I guess you did save my life twice now.”  
“And you’d be smart not to forget it.”  
Jaskier shook his head fondly, watching as she all-but strutted away, averting his eyes back to Ciri who had been watching with obvious amusement.  
“You’d better go see what our Witcher wants, princess.”  
Ciri just smiled, running outside, calling for Geralt as she went, her light footsteps receding. As soon as she was out of earshot, he slumped further against the wall, a pained sigh escaping his mouth.  
“You know,” Triss said from the kitchen, voice surprising Jaskier, “You shouldn't keep pushing yourself so much.”  
“I can assure you, my dear, I’m not pushing myself too hard,” Jaskier smiled, shifting into a slightly more upright position, wincing as a sharp pain shot up his spine, “You healed me excellently.”  
The sorceress laughed, “Flattery will get you nowhere, bard. I know I’m still drained,” she stood from her seat, bags all packed, “I can only apologise I couldn't get rid of the lasting pain.”  
“In pain and alive is better than dead.”  
“That it is.”  
The two of them exchanged smiles, Triss offering her arm in aid.  
“I should be alright to walk to the horses,” Jaskier replied good naturedly, “Besides, I’ve got to get used to walking unaided if we’re to be travelling to Kaer Morhen”

“Sing us a song, Jask. Please?” Cirilla asked, walking beside the horse (recently named ‘Pegasus’ - much to Geralt’s chagrin) and gazing up at the bard hopefully.  
Jaskier spared a glance at Geralt, only to be met with another hopeful look, a warm feeling of happiness building in his chest at the Witcher’s acceptance, “Alas, I am without my lute little one. I’m afraid it won’t be my best performance.”  
“Your lute?” Geralt repeated, “Oh Jask I’m so sorry - I must’ve forgotten to give it to you.”  
Tears sprung to Jaskier’s eyes almost immediately as Geralt removed his instrument from one of his packs, passing it to Jaskier with a tentative smile, “Yennefer went back for it when we rescued you.”  
The bard hugged the lute to his chest, the familiar weight of the instrument settling something within himself that he hadn't noticed was there.  
“I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” he whispered, hands trailing over the markings, “Thank you, truly.”  
“No need to thank us bard, just play us a song,” Yennefer smirked, walking ahead of the two horses hand in hand with Triss.  
“Okay,” Jaskier nodded, a smile firmly set on his face, “I - this is one I was working on before... everything happened.”  
Ciri grinned at him encouragingly, eyes shining with barely restrained glee.  
Clearing his throat, shuffling slightly in the saddle, Jaskier began to sing.

“ _The wrinkles and bricks that we’re left with at last_  
_And drink will fix all those questions unasked_  
_Who died and made you king of it all._ ”

Geralt frowned slightly, reading into the lyrics, frown deepening as he continued through to the chorus.

“ _Cause these plates they smash like waves_  
_And the wine stains hide the tears_  
_But that_  
_Breathing you hear don't mistake it for sighs_  
_Don't you realise? They’re just battle cries dear._ ”

“Jask-”  
Ciri cut Geralt off with a sharp glare, “Shh, let him sing.”  
Jaskier snorted a laugh, pausing to reach down and ruffle the princess’ hair before readjusting his seating and re-starting his strumming, making direct eye contact with Geralt as he sang the last few lines.

“ _And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart_  
_They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art_  
_And as I_  
_Walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars_  
_But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause._ “

He set his lute down across his laps with a smile, hands aching slightly at the sudden use, “That’s as far I’ve got so far.”  
“It was beautiful,” Triss said, her soft voice breaking the awed silence that had fallen over the group, Yennefer nodding in agreement.  
“I loved it!” Ciri breathed, watching him with newfound curiosity, “Could you teach me to play?”  
Jaskier felt himself smile at her enthusiasm, “I’m sure we could find some time in between your other lessons once we get to Kaer Morhen?”  
He aimed the question at Geralt, hunching himself inwards slightly, as if anticipating a less than enthusiastic response. Instead, he was met with the softest expression he had ever seen on his friend’s (lover’s? he wasn't quite sure what they were) face, “We’ll find time”  
At that, Ciri cheered, walk changing to a skip, “I can’t wait to learn as much as I can - ooh! ooh! You’ll have to teach me to play Toss A Coin so I can annoy Geralt. Then we’ll -”  
Ciri’s excited babbling faded into the background as Jaskier focused on Geralt’s face, the seemingly bottomless affection reflected in his eyes shocking him. The soft smile, barely noticeable to those who didn't know the Witcher well, speaking volumes.  
“Do you have another you could play?” Geralt asked, “Perhaps the one about the Selkie?”  
Jaskier burst into a grin and, ignoring the slight aches in his hands, picked his lute back up, “Of course, dearheart.”

By the time dusk had set, Geralt slid off Roach, directing the group to a small clearing in the woods.  
“We can rest here for tonight,” he announced, moving to assist Jaskier off of Pegasus, “We’re far away enough from the road and there’s a stream just a few miles north from here”  
Ciri nodded, already moving to collect some twigs and fallen branches for kindling, hiding a smile as she watched her pseudo-father all but lift Jaskier from the saddle and place him gently down on the forest floor.  
“Seems as good a place as any,” Yennefer agreed, surveying the area with a neutral expression, “It’s warm enough to use our bedrolls - we can save the tents until we get nearer to winter.”  
Jaskier watched as the four of them worked in tandem to set up the temporary camp, only Triss’ slight lagging behind showing that she was newer to the dynamic.  
Trying not to feel so useless, Jaskier untacked the horses, stroking over Roach’s muzzle with a smile. He had missed the horse almost as much as Geralt himself, the amount of times the two had waited together for Geralt to come back from a hunt creating an almost unbreakable bond that Jaskier had never experienced with an animal before.  
Roach, sensing that he had begun to get lost in his thoughts, nudged his chest gently.  
“Ah, thank you girl,” he smiled, slipping a sugar cube from one of the saddle bags and offering it to her, “It’s nice to be back.”  
By the time he had finished tending to the horses, the camp had been set up, Geralt waving him over with soft eyes, an empty space between him and Triss by the fire.  
“- just need to get to the summit and then we can portal to Kaedwen, leaving only a trace that should dissipate before Nilfgaard can track it,” Yen said, “Then it should only be a two days ride to the valley.”  
Geralt nodded, absentmindedly pulling Jaskier to rest against his chest, relieving the tension of the bard’s body, “From then it should only be a few days to make it up the pass. We should be safe there.”  
Jaskier hummed in acknowledgement, his aching body relaxing into the warmth of the Witcher’s embrace, eyes fighting to stay open as the conversation faded into background noise, lulling him to sleep.  
Geralt watched Jaskier fall asleep with a soft smile, slightly tightening his arms to ensure he didn't slip out of his grip, current conversation forgotten as he made sure the bard was comfortable.  
“-alt. Geralt.”  
The Witcher looked up at the sound of his name being called, eyes refocusing onto the two sorceresses.  
“We lost you for a moment there,” Triss teased lightly, nodding at Jaskier in his arms, “Did you hear the plan?”  
“Portalling to Kaedwen tomorrow,” Geralt grunted, ignoring the heat that rose to his cheeks at the realisation that he had zoned out of the conversation just from watching his bard, “Then a two days ride through to the Blue Mountains.”  
“Yennefer asked you how long it takes to get up the pass,” turning his head to look at Ciri, he was met with a cheeky smile from the young girl, “you were just staring at Jaskier and didn't answer.”  
Cheeks now blazing, Geralt cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with all three of the women, “The pass generally takes me two days to clear, with all of our gear and you four it will probably take us three to four days.”  
“And you’re sure we can’t just portal to the top?” Yennefer sighed, distaste clear in her expression.  
“You’d trigger the wards placed around the mountain, it’s better to just walk.”  
Yen sighed, nodding sharply before standing up, offering her hand to Triss, “Well if you don't mind we better be getting to bed. We’ll need our strength for the portal.”  
Geralt hummed in acknowledgment, watching as the two women laid their bedrolls next to each other, Yennefer holding Triss protectively against her chest.  
“You should be going to sleep as well, Ciri.”  
“I’m not tired yet,” she groaned, a yawn ruining her pretence.  
The Witcher raised an eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face. The princess sighed dramatically, standing up from her seat by the fire and walking over to her bedroll, placed in between Yennefer and Geralt’s.  
As her breathing levelled out, Gerat allowed his attention to once again return to the delicate bard in his arms, the position becoming familiar. A warmth in his chest spread across his body as he finally allowed himself to embrace the feeling of love, compassion and protection that Jaskier inspired within him, the blind show of trust something that no one other than Ciri had ever shown him.  
The fire spat as the embers began to die, but Geralt didn't want to move in case he woke the bard. Eventually, as the light began to fade, Geralt braced himself to stand, slowly moving so as not to disturb his sleep.  
The Witcher moved across the clearing to the bedrolls, kneeling down and placing Jaskier gently onto the mat. He knelt there for a second, waiting for any negative reaction to the change of scenery, before pulling away, going back to reignite the fire.  
“Geralt...”  
The voice was quiet, almost inaudible even to his enhanced ears. Turning away from the now burning fire, he locked eyes with a sleepy Jaskier, arms outstretched towards him.  
He was moving within seconds, eyes searching for any distress. Sensing this, Jaskier shook his head with a tired smile, hands pulling Geralt into the bedroll and into an embrace. The Witcher stiffened in surprise, before slowly relaxing into the bard’s body heat.  
“Sleep better with you.”  
The hushed confession caused Geralt’s heart to skip a beat, the older man turning around to face Jaskier.  
“I don't know how to do this.”  
Jaskier frowned, his sleep-addled brain not fully comprehending Geralt’s confession, instead moving to place his head on his chest with a low hum, “Just hold me, dearest.”  
Evened-out breaths indicated that the bard had fallen back to sleep, the affection welling in Geralt’s chest almost overwhelming the man. He knew he would panic about that later, but for now he was content to hold his bard and sleep.

It was early morning when Jaskier finally awoke, the birds’ chirping a welcomed sound to his ears that still rang with the aftermath of his nightmare. Realising he was the first awake, the bard slipped out of Geralt’s arms, restarting the fire and setting off to collect some river water to boil.  
“I can be useful,” he assured himself, ignoring the strain on his legs as he walked down the bank, copper pot in his hand, “Just as useful as I was before.”  
Dipping the pot into the water, he caught sight of his reflection, the morning sun illuminating the angry red scar with alarming clarity. Wincing, the bard avoided his reflection, standing up and quickly making his way back to camp, desperately banishing the whispers of his torturer that tried to once again assault his mind.  
Stumbling back into the clearing, he came face to face with a frantic Witcher, amber eyes searching him wildly.  
“Geralt-?”  
“Where were you? I woke up and you were gone! I-”  
Stomach dropping, Jaskier quickly placed the pot of water down before cupping Geralt’s cheeks, pressing their foreheads together, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry dearheart but you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you. I just went to the stream to get some water.”  
Geralt exhaled, shoulders drooping, “ _Jask._ ”  
“I know, I won’t do it again. I didn't think what it would look like.”  
Despite the panic at seeing his Witcher distressed, a twisted part of him revelled in seeing the Witcher so worried over him. Choosing to ignore the confusing feelings for the moment, Jaskier instead focused on calming Geralt down, moving his forehead away slightly before placing a quick but firm kiss on his lips.  
The action, no matter how hesitant Jaskier was in making it, seemed to relax the taller man, so he leaned in again. This time as their lips connected, Geralt moved his hands to rest on Jaskier’s hips, the hold gentle.  
Pulling back with a smile, Geralt ducked his head, “Do we... do we need to talk about this?”  
Jaskier breathed out shakily, hands still cupping the Witcher’s cheeks, “I don't think there’s much to talk about.”  
Before Geralt’s expression could fall, Jaskier took a deep breath and released the confession that he had been holding within himself for just over two decades, “I am in love with you after all, I’ll take whatever I can get.”  
Amber eyes met blue, both equally shocked.  
“You love me?”  
“Aye, have for ... well going on twenty two years now.”  
A wounded noise escaped Geralt as he recaptured Jaskier’s lips in another kiss, this time more desperate than the last.  
“I love you too” he breathed, words uttered against his lips like a prayer, “Jask-”  
It was only as Geralt wiped his face that Jaskier realised he was crying, the happy tears leaking from his eyes outshone by the massive smile on his lips.  
“You don't know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words to me, my love,” he laughed, voice thick with emotion.  
“Too long.”  
“Just kiss me again you oaf.”

The journey through the Blue Mountains was about as pleasant as one could expect a hike to be.  
Ever since the night of confessions, the three women had been teasing the new couple almost non-stop, Ciri seeming especially happy with the new situation.  
On the first night travelling up the pass to Kaer Morhen, Ciri sat in between Jaskier and Geralt with a thoughtful smile, “Does this mean I have two dads now?”  
Jaskier, who had been drinking some water at the time, promptly choked, spluttering in surprise as Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yennefer and Triss, sitting opposite them behind the fire, began to laugh uncontrollably at their reactions, Ciri looking slightly confused but proud at making the normally stern woman laugh.  
“Pardon me darling girl?” Jaskier wheezed, “but did I hear that right?”  
“Yes. Do I call you papa now that you’re dating my dad?”  
Geralt, being bombarded with emotions - not only being referred to as ‘dad’ as the first time, but also finally accepting the idea of Jaskier as his partner - went to speak, but instead only made a strangled noise which made the two sorceresses laugh even harder.  
“I think you’ve broken him, dear girl,” Yennefer smirked, clearly enjoying his struggle.  
“Do you - do you not want me to call you dad?”  
Ciri’s voice came out quiet and shuttered, her eyes dropping to the floor.  
“Ciri - no, of course I would - the fact that you think -” Geralt fumbled for the right words, desperate not to upset the girl. Eventually, he gave up, opening his arms for a hug, “I think of you as my daughter.”  
The princess released a happy giggle, leaping into his arms with a large grin, “So I can call you dad? and Jaskier papa?”  
The bard cleared his throat, dislodging the lump that had formed from holding back tears, and offered the girl a soft smile as she looked at him over Geralt’s shoulder, “I would be honoured.”  
The girl returned to her seat, the moment seemingly passed, when Jaskier spoke up from her side, “Does that mean you see Yennefer and Triss as your crazy aunts?”  
The atmosphere lightened with everybody’s laughter, Triss looking delighted - Yennefer hiding her smile behind a tactical sip of water - as Cirilla declared that she indeed saw them as family as well.  
Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes over Ciri’s head, an unspoken promise passing between them. They were all a family now, and they would protect the little girl until their last breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for being patient with me with these updates! (and for kazeetease on tumblr for beta reading this last chapter)  
> it's finally finished :))
> 
> for those of you who wanted the alternate ending, if you check the series link there's an (admittedly sadder) ending to read.  
> also if any of y'all want an epilogue let me know! I might write one in the coming weeks x


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